Where would we be now?
by CloZack PASSION
Summary: Zack/Cloud Pre-game AU What if Cloud had never joined SOLDIER? What if he was still living in Nibelheim, trying to survive bullies and dreaming of SOLDIER? What if he finally got his chance? RATED FOR VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE, AND FUTURE ADULT THEMES


((A/U ftw. :D Takes place just before the Nibelheim incident, AKA about 7yrs pre-game.))

_Maybe if I don't move, they'll stop._

That's what I was thinking as I was curled up, surrounded by at least half a dozen guys, though it didn't really matter. They weren't stopping. I felt boot forcing its way into my gut, making me feel even more like throwing up. The mouth-full of blood and snot didn't really do much to help the situation.

"C'mon, you fuckin' pussy. Gonna get up or what!?" Just. Keep. Ignoring. Them. It was the best I could think of. You see, when there's about six guys, most of which close to twice your size be it in height or girth or both, kicking the shit out of you, thought doesn't realy come easily. And fighting back isn't even an option.

"Just leave me alone..." the words gurgled in my throat, also well-full of blood, and I was sure this would only get me another kick. Instead, though, someone lifted me by the collar, so forcefully that I heard the shirt begin to tear as he held me an inch away from his face. He stunk of booze and sex and smoke and sweaty socks left alone too long in a really hot place. If I hadn't been sure he was about to slit my throat, I would've probably pondered the fact that it was really strange such a smelly guy could have so many friends, when a relatively pleasant-smelling kid such as myself had none.

"Go to hell, Strife." after that, I was sure it would be a gleam of silver and then slow, bleeding death. Instead, though, I heard him half-cough, half-snort, drawing forth something quite foul from the depths of his throat...and spitting it right into my face. I felt myself being pushed back onto the ground, eyes plastered shut with hot, stinking snot, and stayed there just trying not to sob until the laughter faded enough that I knew they'd left. This time, after wiping furiously at the glob coating my face, I did throw up.

It smelled a hell of a lot better than Smalls.

Smalls was one of those guys with a 'funny' name. I mean, it was just his family name, but still plenty ironic. He was a beast, really. Human only at the very roots, in that two of the same basic species produced the monster. I swear to the gods, the guy was sixteen and stood damn near seven feet tall. He was wide, too. Not the fat kinda wide, either. Pure muscle, and I swear the width of his shoulders was probably nearly the same as his height. He was big. On top of being such a mountainous monstrosity, and even beyond the stench, he was ugly. His face looked like someone had smashed it in a few times with a shovel... flat features, that pushed-up pig nose, and eyes that were tiny enough I wondered if he could see over those plump, blemished cheeks.

As far as I knew, the only hobby he had outside of beating the shit out of me, was beating the shit out of anyone or thing he could find. Oh, and lifting weights, though I think that might have just been means to the 'beating up even BIGGER things' end.

With all that going for him, friends came easy. I liked to think they were scared into it, and it's really not hard to believe that they were. Sometimes, I even pretend that if it weren't for Smalls, I would've had lots of friends and a happy childhood and all that. This much I know to be utter bullshit, but it's still nice to make-believe sometimes.

Anyways, back to the matter at hand. I was left in the snow, now, blinking away tears and sweat and snot and icy melted-down water, trying to keep from choking on all of the above. In the end, I probably spent a good twenty minutes out there, coughing and puking and shiverring while I tried to get up the strength to go back home. Home wouldn't really be that much better.

I loved my mom, don't get me wrong, but I hated going home almost as much as I hated leaving it. She would lecture me about getting in fights then clean me up with all sorts of things that stung and burnt and stunk. Even when I made it back to the door, it took me up until the point I was sure I might die from hypothermia if I didn't, to go in.

"Cloud! Oh, Cloud, tell me you didn't fight again..." I know she just worried about me, that it wasn't as if she was mad at me for getting beaten up, but when you're fourteen, everything sounds like an accusation.

"It's not like they really give me a choice, ma." I made sure to growl the words, though the only one intimidated was the cat that bolted across the room, and that only because I slammed the door behind me.

"Oh...my baby...come here, let me clean you up..." I listened to her chatter about how worried she was when I was late coming home again, and how much she hated to see this happen to me, and this and that, and in the end, I was trying not to cry because she really did make me feel like just the smae sort of beast that beat me up out there. I really didn't wanna hurt her, certainly didn't want to make her cry, but always seemed to succeed in doing both.

"I'm sorry, ma." I wasn't growling this time, quite sincere as I hugged her. She was still taller than me, a lot like anyone else at that time, so I just burried my face in her shoulder and let her cry into my hair for a bit, until she finally felt up to talking again.

"Mr. Lockhart wants to talk with you." her voice was still a little shaky when she told me, just as cringe-inducing as the fact that our neighbor, and mayor, wanted to see me. What had the others accused me of now, I wondered. Not that they always even had to.

It goes back a few years to explain why everyone hated me so much, Lockhart especially. It's a little bit of a strange story, but I was basically given the blame for putting his daughter, Tifa, into a coma for a week. She ran out into the mountains, and everyone else was too afraid to follow. I wanted to protect her, but in the end, we ended up falling from a broken old rope bridge. She hit her head and was in bad shape, while I just sprained an ankle and got a few cuts and brusies. Really, I got much more severe injuries from the beating the man gave me when he found us. I couldn't tell that to mom, of course, but that's how it went... and that's how life went for me from that point on.

"...Ma..." I began with a bit of a whine, but was cut off.

"There's some chore he needs you to do tomorrow, so you should go see him." If someone were to walk in at that moment, they'd never be able to tell she'd been crying just a few minutes before. She had this strange ability to regain her composure in the blink of an eye. I guess that's the sort of thing you get when you raise a hell child all alone. More guilt when I considered that.

"Now?"

"I'll have some dinner for you when you get home, okay? Just get this over with, baby. Everything will be fine." She also had that way of saying unbelievable things like that in a way that they really sounded like they could be true. So after another hug, I headed back out into the snow and towards the neighbors' house.

I glanced over close to the big well in the center of town. Snow was already covering the bloodied spot where I was sure, at least for a few minutes, I would take my last breath. A small shake of my head, and I knocked over on the mayor's door. Any chore he wanted me to do would surely be humiliating, dangerous, or both.

"Oh, Cloud!" It was Tifa who answered the door, dressed in flannel pajamas even if it was before eight, "Daddy was waiting for you. Come in." I kept my eyes on the floor. I dare not look at her. If Mr. Lockhart walked over and I was even glancing in Tifa's direction, that would be another beating. "Oh, no, did you get beaten up again?" she was leading me to the kitchen table when she asked. I didn't answer her, though my mind screamed about it being her asshole boyfriend. Again. I would never understand that, either.

"There you are." Mr. Lockhart was a small man, with eyes that burnt through me and a scowl, below an ugly moustache, that never really went away.

"Yessir." I hated the man, but if I at least tried to show some respect, maybe he wouldn't hurt me. Maybe.

"There's SOLDIERs coming in tomorrow." I felt my heart skip a beat. SOLDIER. Now I understood. This was a psychological beating, if I'd ever had one. It was no secret that it was my dream to join the elite force. I tried not to respond and he continued, "They requested a guide through the mountains to the reactor."

"Yessir..." Best of both worlds, to him. I could be reminded of what I never had while sent back to the place that I lost any chance of having a normal, an even semi-decent childhood.

"_You _know the mountains well enough, so you'll be going." he spat the words at me. To be honest, though, if this was a punishment, he failed at it pretty badly. The prospect of meeting SOLDIERs, working with them, actually _helping_? I don't think there were words for how excited I was becoming. "And you'd best not fuck it up."

"I won't, sir." I had to hide the excitement, of course, or he would withdraw the order. At this, I was told to meet at the gates out of town tomorrow morning, at which point we would first meet with the ones sent out, then I would get a briefing from them.

"Maybe if you actually do good...you can get the fuck out of here and go to Midgar." Mr. Lockhart seemed to find the prospect laughable, as he did just that while I walked out of the house. It didn't matter. I didn't care if he was going to make fun of me and laugh and figured I'd end up dead in the mountains. I was going to meet some fucking SOLDIERs.

Going back home, I didn't even try to hide my excitement from mom. I went on and on about how fun it would be, how excited I was, how much I hoped, in my naiive fourteen-year-old boy sort of way, that I would do so well they would ask me to come back to Midgar with them.  
I wondered, while she scolded me to eat my dinner, if they would send a First Class. Probably not, since there were only a few of them, but I could always hope. How great would that be, to make a good impression on one of the best.

Maybe Sephiroth would come.

Sephiroth. The greatest of the great.

The wall above my bed was plastered with news articles, pictures, magazine nubs all about Sephiroth and his First-Class peers. There were four total, then, and I knew about them all. Sephiroth, of course, the most famous of all the SOLDIERs. He was a hero in Wutai, and there were legends that said he took down no less than thirty Wutainese warriors withour even breaking a sweat.

Then there was Genesis Rhapsodos. There were only a few articles on him, describing the guy as a war hero much like Sephiroth, only one that died back in Wutai. I was too young to know any of the major details of the war, and a civillian, so I didn't know any of the real details regarding Genesis and the others at that time either.

Angeal Hewley was the one they described as a mentor to the other SOLDIERs. I still remember being so in awe of that sword he carried. Another thing that was probably taller than me. I didn't really know anything about him at all...just the name and the pictures. Most of the articles were about Sephiroth.

There was one more, though... Zack Fair. Something about him always...almost mesmorized me. He was the newest First Class, and by far the youngest. Only two years older than me, and he was living my dream. I was jealous of him, of everything he'd already done. There was something else about him, too. The pictures...the way he was always smiling, with those bright eyes... if I acknowledged what I feared I might be feeling? Well, they really would kill me. So I pretended he was just an afterthought. That he barely even existed in my mind, even if he occupied it nearly as much as Sephiroth.

I slept, dreaming of the SOLDIERs who would be there tomorrow, of how well I had to do in guiding them, of the possibilities... I really had no idea the nightmare it would end up becoming.


End file.
